The deep, resonant tolling of the Jia Nan Academy's morning bell echoed across the sprawling metropolis, signaling the official commencement of the academic year.
For the hundreds of newly admitted outer sect students, it was a sound that incited a flurry of nervous, chaotic energy. They scrambled from their respective dormitory blocks, rushing toward the colossal Classroom Halls that dominated the eastern sector of the city.
Yoriichi, however, walked with the measured, unhurried grace of a man taking a leisurely stroll through a quiet garden. He easily navigated the labyrinthine stone pathways until he reached the designated hall for the newly assigned 'C' Rank students.
Stepping into the vast, amphitheater-style classroom, Yoriichi took a seat near the back. He swept his crimson eyes across the room. There were exactly fifty students in his specific batch. They hailed from various empires and territories across the desolate North-Western region of the Dou Qi Continent, their diverse clothing and accents a testament to the academy's massive reach.
All of them were around the one-star to two-star Dou Zhe realm. They possessed the arrogant, fiery sparks of local prodigies who were accustomed to being the absolute best in their hometowns.
A stern-faced instructor, wearing the silver-trimmed robes of likely an Initial Stage Da Dou Shi, strode up to the central podium and slammed a heavy wooden ruler against the desk.
"Silence!" the instructor barked, his Dou Qi flaring to instantly suppress the murmuring youths. "Welcome to the Jia Nan Academy. You may have been geniuses where you came from, but here, you are merely the foundation. To build a proper cultivator, we must first build the mind. The morning session will consist of your theoretical disciplines."
For the next four hours, Yoriichi was subjected to what he could only describe as an agonizingly slow trickle of information.
The curriculum was divided into distinct, hour-long blocks. First came History and Geography, detailing the borders of the Jia Ma Empire, the sprawling expanse of the Tager Desert, and the various shifting powers of the Black-Corner Region.
Then came the fundamentals of Qi Methods, followed by lectures on common Dou Techniques. The morning concluded with an exhaustive rundown of Monster and Herb lore, skimming the absolute basics of Alchemy and identifying ingredients like the Blood Lotus and the Ice-Spirit Leaf.
To the other forty-nine youths in the room, this was invaluable, top-tier institutional knowledge. They scribbled furiously on their parchment scrolls, their eyes wide with revelation.
To Yoriichi, it was mind-numbing.
He sat perfectly straight, his expression an impenetrable mask of stoicism, but internally, a rare, heavy sigh echoed in his mind.
'I have already read all of this,' Yoriichi thought, watching the instructor draw a rudimentary diagram of a meridian pathway on the chalkboard.
During his quiet, solitary month in Wu Tan City, Yoriichi had spent countless days in the Xiao Clan's extensive archives. Blessed with an eidetic memory and an incredibly analytical mind honed over centuries, he had practically memorized every scroll, map, and bestiary the clan possessed.
The academy's foundational curriculum was merely repeating concepts he had already dissected, analyzed, and mastered in theory.
'These generalized concepts will only serve to slow me down,' Yoriichi concluded, a faint frown touching his lips. 'I need to practice my breathing styles against the harsh, pure elements of this region. I need to elevate my cultivation, not sit in a wooden chair reviewing the basic anatomy of a Rank 1 Forest Tiger.'
He weighed his options. To immediately walk out of class on the first day would draw unnecessary, arrogant attention.
'I will attend these foundational classes regularly for this entire week,' he decided pragmatically. 'If I find that the curriculum is ultimately useless to my progression—even if it seems harsh to the institution—then I will inform Teacher Ruo Lin or report directly to the class hall elders on this topic, if I can get leave also.'
With his path set, Yoriichi endured the remainder of the theoretical session with quiet dignity.
When the midday sun hung high in the sky, the theoretical classes finally concluded. The instructor ordered the fifty students to gather their belongings and follow him to the adjacent combat sector.
The transition from the stuffy classroom to the sprawling, open-air arena was a welcome relief. The smell of old parchment was replaced by the sharp scent of ozone, sweat, and churned earth.
"Theoretical knowledge is useless if you cannot apply it under pressure," the instructor announced, standing at the edge of a raised, circular stone fighting ring. "For the afternoon session, we will conduct baseline spars. I will be observing your footwork, your Dou Qi control, and your combat instincts. I do not care who wins; I care about how you fight."
The instructor pulled a parchment scroll from his sleeve and began calling out names in pairs.
The spars were exactly what Yoriichi expected from untested youths. They were flashy, emotionally driven, and incredibly wasteful. The students poured entirely too much Dou Qi into their strikes, roaring loudly and utilizing wide, sweeping movements that left their vital organs completely exposed.
"Xiao Ning. Lie," the instructor suddenly called out.
Yoriichi stepped out from the crowd of observing students. He calmly walked up the stone steps and entered the ring. He did not draw his Katana, leaving it secured in his sash. He simply stood in a relaxed, neutral posture, his arms hanging loosely by his sides.
His opponent, an energetic youth, maybe younger than his age named Lie, bounded up the stairs opposite him. The boy was practically vibrating with aggressive energy, a pale green, wind-attribute Dou Qi already swirling around his fists.
"Don't hold back, Xiao!" Lie grinned fiercely, cracking his knuckles. "Let's see what you're made of!"
"Begin," the instructor signaled.
Lie exploded forward. He utilized a movement technique, crossing the ring in a burst of speed, and launched a heavy, sweeping kick aimed directly at Yoriichi's ribs.
Yoriichi didn't block. He simply shifted his weight backward by a fraction of an inch.
The kick whistled through the empty air, missing Yoriichi's robes by a hair's breadth. Lie grunted in surprise, immediately using his momentum to spin into a rapid flurry of punches.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
For an entire minute, the arena was filled with the sound of displaced air. Lie Shan attacked with everything he had, utilizing every stance and combination he had learned in his hometown.
But he couldn't land a single strike.
Yoriichi moved with the serene, effortless grace of a willow branch in the wind. He didn't use any flashy footwork or explosive bursts of Dou Qi. Through his Transparent World vision, he could see the kinetic buildup in Lie's muscles a full second before the boy even launched the attack.
Yoriichi simply stepped to the left, tilted his head, or pivoted on his heel, letting the aggressive strikes harmlessly bypass him.